The Start of Descent
Gwen’s little espionage team broke back into the new HQ base of MJ’s new house sometime that morning, a couple hours after sunrise. The blonde girl planted herself in front of Peni, who was held up hunched over MJ’s office desk, soldering gun in hand and supplies scattered all across the floor. Gwen had to kick her way through all the rubbish surrounding the small girl, accidentally sending a few cylindrical things rolling across the floor. Without looking up Peni made grabby hands back at Gwen, and she tossed Peni a small shopping bag full of bits and bobs. Her own alchemax had been uneventful, with four spiders and a baby infiltrating at once there was no problem that couldn’t be dealt with easily. Get in, get out, and ignore the looks Peter kept shooting her way and ignore the elephant in the room. Hobie had fortunately kept his mouth shut, despite his aversion to following orders.
Peni rummaged through the bag, then accidently tore a hole in the thin plastic reaching for a particular piece and everything came tumbling down upon her desk. She slumped and groaned, finally looking up to Gwen who said, “you haven’t slept, have you?”
“How could I bother?” Peni asked, rhetorically. “We’re on a strict timeline here. It’s not the first time I’ve gone without sleep.” Gwen knew that was true, but Peni was only just hitting double digits in the age department. She shouldn’t have to stay up all night.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Peni shook her head, and went to picking the plastic bag out of the mess of parts. “Breakfast?” She said, after a moment. “You did good getting these parts, they’re all here.”
“Hobie got most of them, actually. I think his pockets are stuffed with more if you need anything else. Breakfast, what do you want?”
“Something greasy in large supply, man.”
Gwen nodded, but Peni was already back to her work. Fully absorbed, she shooed Gwen away, reminding her to get coffee as well. Peni preferred hers black, since that was how Noir drank his and he was a sucker for letting her have some. She eased back out of the ruined office space and into the hall, leaning against the yellowed wallpaper for a good moment with her eyes closed. Two days. Two days, Miguel had said, but Gwen wasn’t sure how much time that actually left them. Two days, as in Miles’ dad was doomed to die tomorrow, or the next? What time, in the next two days, did they know for certain? And just how long did someone have to be in the wrong dimension for them to glitch out of existence entirely? They had no eyes on The spot, and weren’t even trying to get visuals on Miguel because surely, if they could see him he could see them. The whole plot of making base here was to stay out of everyone’s way and come to a surefire solution to fix all this mess, but there was no way of knowing what was happening outside.
What was Miles doing, in that alternate universe of his? A world where there was no spiderman, Miguel had promised. Possibly, he was already on his way to saving the day back there, or developing his own goober, or, or, Gwen just wasn’t sure. What if someone had hurt him, or he couldn’t come back, or he had glitched out of existence? What if he landed somewhere he wasn’t supposed to, or- what if he never forgave her again, after they found him? Because that was for sure in reality, a definite thing. They would find Miles, whether he would let them or not, and bring him back home. Surely, that much would happen, Gwen convinced herself. Miles was strong. Miles could take care of himself.
“Taking a break out here?” a voice came, Peter, stepping out of Mayday’s nursery as soft as spiderly possible. Which was quite quiet, considering Gwen didn’t notice him until he was upon her. She sighed.
“Yeah.”
“You can talk to me, you know? We’re all missing Miles right now-”
“I really, really don’t want to talk about it Peter.”
“That’s what you said last time the two of us had a little heart to heart. Gwen, I know you don’t like doing the little emotional thing, but you gotta to stay healthy up there. “ Peter tapped at the crown of his head, then winced at how greasy his hair was. MJ had already started to deny him kisses and the like before she headed to work that morning because of how dirty he was. Gwen tried to huff out a laugh, but it came more like a sound an injured animal would make. Wounded.
“Peni wants breakfast,” she said instead of really responding. Peter lit up.
“Great! That means we can chat about it on the way there, a little spider bonding time!”
“I hate you,” Gwen said, in total teenage fashion. Peter flashed his perfect teeth towards her, pulling her up from the wall by the back of her hood.
“Love you too, kiddo. A real trooper, this one!”
—---------
I knew if you were really me, you’d put up a fight, the Prowler spit with some awkward mix of malice and excitement. Miles didn’t look up to see what he would say next and scrabbled like a crab through thin sand to get away and back to his feet, which felt like they were on fire after having been hanging so long. Damn pins and needles, fuzzy feeling. The Prowler took out a potted plant that Miles tried to scrape behind, then pots and pans went flying when he jumped atop the counter to give chase. Miles, slain in the floor up against a fridge that felt a little too warm to be running the right way was reminded of the first Jurassic Park movie velociraptors, all poised with sureness at the hunt of the next meal in the kitchen scene. He felt like a little kid, running from problems bigger than he could conjure. He swallowed, reaching deep inside himself for venom to strike as the next hit came.
“Anyone ever tell you you look ancient with them claws? Like, a velociraptor man?” Miles quipped as the Prowler came down, swiping at his counterpart's torso only to get a shock as Miles grabbed his braids with a venom infused hand and yanked hard to the right side. Miles tried to pull himself up the opposite direction, but as soon as he was able to hoist himself up his legs gave out underneath him.
That didn’t stop him, though.
On hands and knees and whatever strength he could slew through his legs did Miles scramble to get up and away, jumping over the couch to doge a swipe here and using his counterpart to drag him around the ruined apartment when he could find purchase without being smacked. Miles did his best to stay on the defensive, considering his other self had never done anything outright to deserve such a harsh treatment of a full-powered spider punch or kick. Just little zaps, here and there and everywhere Miles could reach. There was the question of whether he could even handle it or not, all things considered he was not a super.
“Bro, I’m really about to piss myself here and if you don’t let me go, I’m gonna pee all over this new rug.” Miles told his alter, who did momentarily stop to stare at Miles in disbelief. In that one moment of silence Miles turned heel and ran up to the window, strength returning to his legs just enough to absolutely yeet himself out of the window and into the morning daylight. Except somehow, this Prowler asshole didn’t seem to get the memo and at the last second grabbed Miles by the ankle and hauled him back inside. “Let me go!” Miles yelled in his face, held down onto his back being straddled by this demented version of himself. He bucked and scratched and kicked and even at one moment bit at the alter, but Miles G just took one of his claws and dug it into Miles’ left shoulder. Into the same spot that Miguel had just hours ago. Now, Spidermen may heal fast, but not that fast. He cried out and gave up momentarily, trying to catch his panic.
“Are you done?” Gonzalo asked himself, bearing down on the wound harder. Miles spit into his own face, and the Prowler had no qualms doing the same back. It landed in Miles’ mouth and he didn’t even have the strength to try and spit it back out.
“The hell is your problem, man?!” Miles asked himself between pants. “I’m trying to save our- my dad! Would you not have done the same, if you’d been able to?” He was incredulous, absolutely beside himself in fury. Fury towards himself, this alter, Miguel and Gwen and Peter and just, everything.
Just then he glitched, and between moments of excruciating pain did the alter hold on tighter to wrists and ankles. He frowned at the Miles below him, tilting head curiously as to what had happened, like some form of a demented animal. Total predator and no hint of prey. Miles was brought back to the idea of the velociraptor once more.
“I gotta see that again,” he told himself. Miles got one hand free and pulled as hard as he could at the braids on the other's head, but Prowler seemed unaffected this time around. “What was that?” he prodded, trying to turn Miles over to inspect him for any lasting effects.
“I told you, I’m from a different dimension! I ain’t supposed to be here, man. Just, lemme go, and you’ll never have to deal with me again.” They grabbed on the floor, weak swipes and handfuls of clothes or faces or hair.
“You’ve already seen too much anyways,” the Prowler frowned. And Miles squinted up at him.
“What have I seen? You tied me to a punching bag??? Your identity? Look man, you think I’m about to spout off about that look at myself-” But it was clear in the Prowler’s eyes that neither of those things were what he was talking about. “What?” Miles trailed off, taking a moment on his back to really look around at the mess they had left. There was nothing that stuck out in the apartment as being particularly incriminating, and he squinted back at the villainous version of himself.
“How do you get back to your universe, anyways?” The Prowler asked him, tilting Miles head towards his own face with a large claw. The edge of one of the fingers brushed his face and a thin line of blood began to clot underneath. Miles didn’t answer, for a long beat. There was no way this version was about to genuinely help him out, all sudden outta the blue like that. Ulterior motive for sure, but what that was Miles wasn’t entirely settled. What would he want, if he were the Prowler? There was no honest tell, because he wasn’t the Prowler. Miles Morales from Earth 1610 was spiderman, and whether he was meant to be or not, he was. Despite what Miguel tried to tell him, or what friends turned their backs on him or didn’t believe in him. Despite the fact that if his parents ever found out, he would be in some deep and hot water.
He had to get back to his dad.
Miles tried to calm his racing heart, and quick pants as best he could. Sitting underneath himself, he began to think. He got into Visions Academy on full scholarship. He escaped from every spider a part of the spider society, and there was little doubt that Miles was about the only spider not in the loop. Miles was smart, and he needed to think this through very carefully. He only got one shot.
“A collider. Kingpin’s collider.” He grit, not opening his eyes. He felt the alter stiffen above him, and remembered that in his universe the Prowler worked for Kingpin. “Get your boss on the phone,” he started, and Prowler dug his claws deep into Miles' shoulder. “Get him to let you use that thing. Or if not let, I’ll find a way for myself.”
“No one just ‘uses’ Kingpin’s collider.”
“Well obviously, you’ve never met me before.”
—-------
The walk to the closest breakfast serving dinner was thankful, silent. Just Peter accompanied her, both armed and ready with double order lists for each spider hanging around the house. Some wanted more than others, but it was apparent with the entire order that it was nothing to be whipped up ‘right quick.’ It left Gwen feeling antsy about going out, when who knows what was happening to Miles. Had he eaten? Had he been beat? Was he safe, wherever he was on Earth 42? There was no way to tell. And here she was going out to eat instead of looking for him, or helping Peni work on the goober (which was more of a hovering motion, if she was honest with herself.) or doing anything remotely productive.
“Food is helping,” Peter told her, hand on her shoulder like she was about to go running off if he didn’t hold her down. In the spirit of laying low they both opted casual. This for Peter was pajama pants and his robe, while Gwen tossed Miles' jacket over her suit and called it a day. As long as no one looked too hard, it seemed as if she was wearing leggings underneath the coat. Sometimes she would turn a certain way and the smell of Miles would fill her head. Something a combination of spice and the incense his mother used in their home. A snap of cold and some kind of strong chemical smell, possibly from his copious amounts of art supplies or spray paint addiction.
It took all of her willpower not to rip out shreds of her hair or dig her nails in deeper where her arms were crossed. The dinner around the corner was warm inside, and quite still after the before-work breakfast rush. Peter went up to the counter to put their orders in, and she stood beside him like some shy teenager that was scared to speak. It took a whole ten minutes of Gwen studying the menu for Peter to finish rattling off everything they needed, (the cashier was slow, in retaliation) and they ambled over to a corner booth together.
“What happened, back at your place?” Peter begged her, playing with a stolen pack of sugar off their table.
“Nothing,” she quipped too fast, and was immediately caught in her lie. “Did Hobie tell you?” She finally gave, picking at the strings on Miles’ jacket.
“No, Hobie didn’t say anything. I’m just- worried. The look on your face when you came back was so defeated. Before that you were ready to fight.” A waitress brought over two cups and set them gently on the table, apologizing for the long wait time of the to-go order. Peter waved her off, and Gwen took a long sip of her too hot mocha. It didn’t taste sweet, even after she stole Peter’s packets of sugar and poured them in with little regard. She choked after the first few sips, ending in a coughing fit with tears. Peter pulled out of his side of the booth to sit beside her, patting her back endlessly in a flurry.
“He didn’t quit the force.” She whispered between slow tears and coughs. Gwen was never one to cry, but could admit that both times in the past two years that she had, it had been in front of Peter B. Parker. There was no way around his slow realization.
“Your dad? He was going to quit the force?” Gwen hadn’t even told Peter the full extent as to why she hadn’t wanted to go back home after being discovered by Miguel. The top dog himself was the only one to know the full extent. Even then, Peter was not dumb and had guessed over the last six months that something terrible had happened.
“I thought that that was the best way to break the cycle. How can it be a cannon event, that he dies, if he isn’t the captain? I was so sure, for that moment, and- and glad. I felt like I could have some control, after months of just- floating. If he quit the force he wouldn’t die. If he quit the force, he- Miles he, would have a chance to break the cycle. I thought that if Miles could, then maybe my dad wouldn’t have to die either, you know? He’s all I have left.”
“Oh honey,” Peter said, patting her back in little circles. He’d gotten a lot better at the comforting thing since he had his own kid. Gwen was happy for Mayday, she knew the baby was well loved and cared for.
“He pulled a gun on me,” she said at last, and it was Peter’s turn to choke. She refused to look at him, staring out the front windows of the diner or her own cup. “Back before I joined Spider Society, he pulled a gun on me. I’d just gotten through saving him, I was hurt. I was out of web. I was all confused because Miguel had shown up out of nowhere, and I was on my own in the rubble. And he was going to shoot me. I told him not to that- that I was helping, and he didn’t believe me. Told me I was under arrest for the death of my Peter. And I- I didn’t know what to do, staring your own dad down as he puts the gun to your head. What do you do? Peter I- I pulled my mask off, because there was no way I wanted to die and I couldn’t just, hurt him.”
“You couldn’t swing away?”
“I was out of web.” She took a sip of her still too hot coffee, and almost spit it right back out. She got it way too sweet, in her haste. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this. There’s more pressing matters happening, like finding him before Miguel does.” Peter made a pained sound.
“Tell me anyways. Gwen, your problems are important. This is very important, he, I can’t believe he would pull a gun on you. You’re wonderful and amazing, and so, so good. At everything you do, at your core, Gwen, I see you. We’re waiting on food in this diner, and there's nothing else we can do for Miles until Peni finishes the goober. Go on kid, spill the rest of it out or it will only build and eat you alive at the worst possible time.”
“This is the worst possible time,” she muttered into Miles’ coat, and Peter pulled her up under his wing. After a spell, she did spill the rest. “I took off the mask for him. And he never once put his gun down. He looked at me like I had completely betrayed him and everything he stood for. The way he looked at me, was like I wasn’t even his daughter anymore. Like he didn’t love me, or want me, or, or, trust me. I did lie to him, I’ll admit that. I shouldn’t have. But he can’t- he can’t pull a gun on his own kid and try to shoot them! He can’t do that! He was still going to arrest me, hell he was trying when Miguel offered me refuge! If I hadn’t come with him, I would be in jail or worse, Peter. I couldn’t- by my own dad? It was just me and him, for the longest. He raised me solo. I know we weren’t always close but- damn. How could he just… abandon me like that, when I needed him most?”
Not to mention the way that Miguel had misled her, when she had nowhere to go. She didn’t always agree with his points, but it was that or get shot or killed and Gwen just couldn’t do that. No matter how sad she had ever been, she had always been selfish in her need to live. Every bone in her body told her she had to, and if that was spider sense or not it didn’t matter. But, her own decisions had led to Miles getting hurt. If she had told him the truth beforehand, if she hadn’t seen him at all, there were too many ifs. And now she was here, worried about whether or not he would forgive her for hurting him when he wasn’t even safe.
Peter pulled her closer, and pat her little head a few times.
“Order up!” The cashier called, and Peter pulled Gwen up gently, keeping her tucked under his arm. There was nothing he could say that would make it better. No ‘it’ll be okays’ or anything like that. Because, in the end, he wasn’t even sure it would be okay this time.
—----------------
After a beat, the alter looked miles up and down, still laid out atop him firmly. “You’ve used Kingpin’s collider?”
“In my own universe, yeah.” Miles said reluctantly. “Didn’t have much of a choice. Beat his ass black and blue and strung him up in the skyline for dad to cut down. He never came back out of jail, never could get bail.” Maybe his other self was looking for reassurance?
“Could you kill Kingpin, if you had to?” Miles opened his eyes and looked up to himself.
“If I had to,” he reassured himself, and the Prowler stood up.